smileypro

Three. Four. Five. I like five; it feels complete. Okay, one more time. Six… Seven. Done. "How long does it take to get a glass of water?" my husband calls from the living room. "Sorry, I'm coming." I resist the urge to rinse the glass a few more times. Cleanliness is not a factor—it's the numbers. The completion. The habit. I take a sip of my water and force myself to stop asking if I should just run the water one more time. I join Sam in the living room and sit in my usual spot: the center recliner. He always lies on the couch to watch TV. It works. He hits the play button, and we watch ten minutes of reality before the demon